


Backwards Chaining

by Goodluckdetective (scorpiontales)



Series: Caboose Siblings AU [3]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Blood Gulch Chronicles, Brain Damage, Gen, Psychological Horror, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 16:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11039943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiontales/pseuds/Goodluckdetective
Summary: 479er and Caboose are siblings. it makes more sense then you might thinkThis edition: Freelancer always had a cruel sense of humor. Neither Niner, nor Caboose will ever truly know how far that sense of humor extends.





	Backwards Chaining

**Author's Note:**

> I've always been a believer that Freelancer got involved with the lives of more than their agents. 
> 
> And since I had all these Cabooses lying around, it seemed fitting to see what a handful of them got up to.

Over the years, Professor Taylor Caboose has made no effort to hide their utter loathing for the UNSC. A sign on their door encourages students to talk to them about financial aid before signing up with the guard, newspaper clippings about the UNSC’s war crimes are prominent on their corkboard, they dedicate one lecture a year to the UNSC’s gruesome history with AI. Every single student who has taken one of their classes knows not to debate them on such matters unless they have the facts to back it up, and even those who do usually don’t bother.

College students can be particularly dense, but none of them miss the small table in the corner of Professor Caboose’s office. It’s bare except for three things; a picture frame with two photos in it, a candle and small vase containing a fresh flower. None of them miss the two figures in the picture either, dressed in full military regalia and covered with the same freckles that cover their professor’s face. 

So when Professor Caboose sends out an email to let their classes know they’re canceling office hours to talk to some UNSC agents, everyone knows it won’t end well.

Professor Caboose’s office is just big enough for themself and the three agents. Two of them look to be bodyguards for the more official looking one: a black man with a balding head and a strained smile. Counselor Price, or so he says. In his hands is a folder and he looks towards the table in the corner. There is no surprise in his eyes when he takes in the pair in the photos.

“You have family who serve I see?”

“Who served.” Taylor responds, making room on their desk. It’s full of papers and research, and Price doesn’t miss how they tuck it away to places he can’t see. Clever. “But you knew that, didn’t you? You don’t seem the type not to run a background check.”

“You would be correct. I apologize; I thought it rude not to ask. Michael and Andromeda, correct?”

“Yes.” Taylor shot a glance at the photographs then looked away. 

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Taylor put another folder away before they responded. “Andi died a few years ago. A crash they said. Mikey died last year. Didn’t get a body for either.” With that Taylor levels their gaze on price, a sharp glare that makes them look twice their age. It’s an indictment, Price knows that, of the people he represents. He ignores it. 

“You have two still serving, correct?”

Taylor puts away the last of their folders before they respond. “Yes. Rose and Lily. Rose is a Lieutenant somewhere and Rose is a doctor on some outpost.”

“Do you talk to them often?”

Taylor sat down and met his gaze again. “Does that matter?”

Price shook his head. “No, no it does not.” He put the folder he was holding on Taylor’s desk. It was sealed shut, and marked classified in bold letters. Taylor looked down at it with a expression of disgust.

“If this is a job offer, my answer is already no.”

“It’s not a job offer. More a consultation.” Price leaned back in his chair. “You are a remarkable roboticist for your age.”

“Flattering me won’t make me help you.”

“It is not flattery if it is the truth. Your paper on rampancy was incredibly informative.” He pushed the folder forward another inch. “We have been contacting experts on A.I and human interaction.”

“Why? To kill people faster?”

“No. To heal damage already done.” Price sat back in his chair. “A few of our troops in a smaller sector ran into hostile A.I. We’re not sure the source; alien perhaps, maybe a small colony in rebellion. Either way, the damage they caused to the human brain; well, we need an expert if we have any hope of trying to treat them. We think your skills could be of use.”

Taylor reaches for the folder, but they don’t open it. Their fingers glide across the text that says classified in all caps. The printed ink has a different feel than the stiff envelope. “You don’t know the source of the A.I?” They looked up eyes narrowed. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Yes. And if you don’t, that is of no concern to me. All I am here for is to assist these soldiers and their families.”

Taylor is silent before they turn the envelope over. They open up the envelope and peer inside, mouth turning into a grimace. Then they look up. “Brain scans? I’m not a neurosurgeon.”

“We’ve already talked to a neurosurgeon. Their feedback was useful, but lacking on the subject of A.I interactions-”

Price stops talking as Taylor pulls out the scans and gasps. They recover their expression quickly, but the horror in their eyes is obvious. As they lay out the brain scans onto their desk, it’s easy to see why. On all of the scans, there are clear signs of brain damage, small white dots to mark lesions, other sections highlighted like that of stroke victim. Taylor looks at each for a long moment, their pointer finger following each mark and irregularity. 

“An A.I did this?” They say, incredulous.

“Yes.” Price points to the one on their far right. “This was done by an A.I on a soldier in his twenties. So far he’s shown signs of extreme memory loss, confusion and exacerbated anger issues. We believe the A.I tried to destroy itself in his head.”

“It tried to destroy itself?” Taylor says, eyes wide. “Was it rampant?”

“We do not believe so.”  

“And it was a smart A.I?”

“Correct.”

“Jesus.” Taylor looked over at the next scan and read the information of the patient on the top. “This kind of damage; it looks like a stroke.”

“One full A.I. They’re still there; we believe they are controlling him.”

“Controlling him?” Taylor almost dropped the scan. Such a thing was theoretically possible with smart A.I and implantation, but they’d never heard of an actual case. “And you haven’t pulled it?”

“We are worried it could cause more damage.”

“Better than leaving it in,” Taylor said pointing to sections of the brain that looked off on the scan. “With implantation, there’s a bleed between an A.I and its human partner if you’re careful. And this job was absolutely not careful.” They pointed to various sections about the scans that looked to be reaching out. “From what I can see, the A.I is the dominant force in this implant, not the human. The longer you leave it in, the more sections it might control or shape. Let it stay that way, the brain itself might not be able to use to same functions on it’s own.”

“We are worried if we pull it they might have the same effect as well.” Price pointed to the last scan on the table. Taylor looked at it, taking in the damage. It looked like the result of a catastrophic brain injury, not an A.I. “Three A.I attempted to control this man at once. While they were able to be removed the damage-”

Taylor was already speaking. “Trouble with motor functions, lost of attention span, severe if not total memory loss, damage to linguistic centers, impairment to problem solving functions.” They looked at Price. “What did these A.I do? Have a fight in his head?”

“We believe so.”

“Well shit.” Taylor took each of the scans and placed them on top of one another, putting them back in the folder. “Can I keep these? And have any data on the A.I themselves if you have it.”

“Of course.” Price stood up and the agents next to him stood up as well. “So you agree to consult us on this matter.”

“Only because of the ramifications it has to my research. And the chance to help the poor bastards whose scans you brought me.” They tucked folder under their arm and opened up their computer, typing with one hand. Price headed for the door, but Taylor spoke up right before he opened the door.

“Counselor Price?”

“Yes Professor?”

Taylor was quiet, pressing their lips together. They glanced at the photos on the long table, then looked at Price. “I request you tell the families what really happened to their loved ones. None of this classified bullshit.” They looked down at their nameplate on their desk. On the side that was blank, a small medal hung. One won by a pilot who’d gone down with her ship. They met Price’s eyes. “They deserve to have answers.”

Price’s face showed no emotion as he replied. “They have already been told, but I appreciate your concern.” He opened the door and stepped outside. “Have a good day.”

Taylor watched the door close behind him and got up, walking up over to the table where they kept their photographs. They reached for the one of Michael and sighed. It was taken right before his deployment, right when he’d been 18 and convinced he would be better in the army then at school. Two years later they were informed he died with the barest of information. Classified they said. Taylor would likely never have their answers on what exactly happened to him.

“At least they’ll know,” Taylor said, patting the file folder under their arm. The records of three men were contained inside, two of them the ages Michael would have been. Taylor might hate the UNSC but not enough to deny those families the same answers they’d been denied. 

“Bye Mikey. Bye Andi,” Taylor said, leaving their office for their robotics lab. As the door closed, a sliver of light fell on the two photographs, a fleeting moment of sun. And in the same instant it appeared, it was gone.

 

 

 


End file.
